Ada found Nia in the corridor outside the lounge. The young woman had stopped where she could see the door at one end and the stairs at the other. Ada did not lead her back into a private room. They walked to a bench in the open passage, with enough traffic that no one could say Ada had taken her aside without consent.
“Leonie told me about the meeting in Westhaven,” Ada said.
“She told me she did.”
“You didn't give her permission.”
“I said I'd tell you.” Nia sat, leaving Ada space at the other end. “I was going to.”
Ada sat. The distinction mattered to Nia and Ada had no reason to argue it away. “I know there's a public meeting. I don't need its location for the Moss Point stop. I do need to ask whether you want shore staff at Westhaven to know you may meet someone your father doesn't want you to see.”
“I want a private talk at Westhaven,” Nia said. “Not people following me.”
“I'll request one. And at Moss Point we're keeping the departures separate.”
“Mine isn't a departure.”
Ada stopped. “His departure. Your continuation.” She let a pair of passengers pass before she went on. “The attendant will tell you when Cal's group is called. You won't be called to the ramp. You can stay in the lounge or go to another public space, with a crew member nearby if you ask. If you want to speak to shore staff while we're docked, tell us. After the stop, we continue.”
“If he comes through the lounge?”
“Call the attendant. You don't have to meet him at the ramp.”
Nia crossed her arms. “Don't send my mother's name around the ship.”
“I haven't. The arrival contact gets the warning, not her address.”
“Will you write it down?”
“I have written the warning, your account, and his. I'll document the stop and my decisions. I won't pretend this was an ordinary disagreement once he's off the ship.”
Nia leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I don't want to be a ferry incident before I meet my mother.”
Ada looked at her hands. They were marked faintly blue near the nails. “You are a passenger making a trip. The warning is part of what happened on that trip. If I leave it out because the record may bother you, I leave the next person without the facts you gave me.”
“The next person could be Cal. He keeps paper.”
Ada thought of the folded 2018 answer in his coat. “I will record what I know accurately,” she said. “I won't make a promise about who might later see a record that I can't keep.”
“He showed you something, didn't he?”
Ada watched a passenger struggle with a folded stroller. It would be easy to put this conversation off until another time.
“He brought a document from years ago,” Ada said. “I have a part in it. You deserve to hear that part from me. I want to give you a full answer when we can sit without the stop pressing on us.”
Nia stood. “Is it about my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Does it change what you do at Moss Point?”
“No. Your answer tonight is yours. The old document is my responsibility.”
Nia held her gaze a moment, then looked away. “I won't forget you said that.”
“You shouldn't.”
Ada walked with her as far as the lounge entrance. Nia went in alone. On the bridge Ada told Ellis the stop plan with the new Westhaven contact request. She made the shore update herself, giving the planned public meeting as a reason to offer Nia a private arrival conversation, without naming its place. Ellis checked the approach window. The first lights of Moss Point had sharpened from a blur into a dock, and the time for provisional plans was ending.